


A Little Reminder of Strength

by help_me_no



Series: The Strength of Minotaurs [8]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: First Time Bottoming, M/M, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Size Difference, Strength Kink, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:12:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29839959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/help_me_no/pseuds/help_me_no
Summary: Theseus has gotten so distracted by Asterius that he forgets he’s pretty damn strong himself.(Or, Theseus isn’t the only one with a bit of a strength kink.)
Relationships: Asterius | The Minotaur/Theseus (Hades Video Game)
Series: The Strength of Minotaurs [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125833
Comments: 7
Kudos: 126





	A Little Reminder of Strength

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of build up in this one, and little a bottom Asterius, switching, and absurd marathon sex as a treat.
> 
> (In case there’s anyone popping in for the first time, you shouldn’t need any context from the rest of the series, besides that we’re in early-ish established relationship territory.)

It starts with a idle walk through Elysium. (It could be said that it starts with Zagreus, but Theseus refuses to think in that direction.)

Theseus is chatting with—at, mostly—Asterius, when they enter a new chamber and Asterius goes particularly still. Theseus stops mid-sentence, and looks around to discover the chamber in shambles. Statues lay crumbled on the floor, and weapons of the Exalted are strewn about, though the room is empty. A telltale scribble of scorched footprints spans the chamber before resolving into a single line out the other side. Theseus scowls.

“Hm,” Asterius tips his head thoughtfully. “He must have just arrived in Elysium, since no one has notified us yet.”

“Yes, well, perhaps we will be lucky and he will die in a fiery chariot explosion before he reaches the arena.” Theseus indignantly marches into the room, and resists the urge to kick at a discarded shield that hovers before him.

Asterius lays a gentle hand on his arm from behind, and Theseus knows him well enough to obligingly tilt his head to the side so Asterius can nuzzle his throat.

“You are acting bitter, my king.”

Asterius’s mouth has migrated down to Theseus’s shoulder, and Theseus shivers a little.

“You are trying to placate me! It will not work!” (That is, at least partially, a lie. Theseus feels warm and gooey and the sensation is quickly dousing his ire.) “My disdain for the hellspawn knows no bounds! He is dishonorable and tricky and he refuses to follow basic rules of arena combat! It makes my blood rush and—“

“I thought it was I that makes your blood rush,” Asterius teases. He slides one hand under the folds of Theseus’s tunic draped across his chest, and Theseus’s head drops back against Asterius’s chest.

“I— you know you do Asterius, just in a different way! Do not tease me so!”

“My apologies, my king.”

A hand on Theseus’s hip urges him to turn, and he does so, facing Asterius and tilting his head up.

“Prove it to me.”

Asterius sighs fondly. “You can be a brat, my king.” Nonetheless he leans down to gently kiss Theseus.

Theseus has clambered his way up Asterius’s body, with minimal support from Asterius’s grip, legs hiked up around his waist and arms wrapped around his neck when the sound of a doorway opening comes from behind them. It’s almost immediately accompanied by a yelp from someone, and Theseus reluctantly pulls away from Asterius to glare at a startled shade.

“What do you want!” He snaps. The shade is staring wide-eyed up at them, and an irrational part of his brain is convinced they are marveling at Asterius’s stature. He scowls, and tries to wrap himself around Asterius even tighter, and block their view with his own body.

“Calm yourself my king,” Asterius tells him, gently patting his thigh. “You are here to notify us that Zagreus is on his way, yes?”

The shade nods feverishly.

“Well we know!” Theseus interjects. “So be on _your_ way!”

The shade once again nods so hard Theseus thinks its head might shake right off, continuing to do so as it backs out of the doorway, bowing several times as it does.

“You did not need to scare them so,” Asterius admonishes, as Theseus climbs down.

“We _knew_!” Theseus huffs, and he begins to march to the opposite door where Zagreus’s footprints lead. Though it does not matter much which door they exit from, it’s the principle of it.

“And we were quite distracted,” Asterius replies.

Theseus doesn’t have an answer to that. He scowls at a chunk of rock easily his height that partially blocks the door, but walks around it as the gate opens.

“Ah.” Asterius sounds concerned, and Theseus turns to look at him. He realizes, standing in the space between the rubble and the door, that the space may be wide enough for his body, (and thus the slimmer Zagreus,) but not for Asterius.

He cannot scowl any harder, but he wishes he could, as to express his displeasure.

“Just one moment, my friend!”

And then, annoyed at Zagreus, at the interruption, and at this rock, Theseus braces himself against it, and shoves as hard as he can. The rock rolls easily out of the way, and for a moment Theseus stands there, startled, suddenly lucid and aware of how truly massive it was. Then—

“Ha! _Hah!_ Did you see that Asterius! Truly I am a champion of Elysium, one of the greatest heroes! I have not beat every other hero who dwells here for nothing!”

“Quite impressive, my king.” If it were anyone else, Theseus would suspect they were being sarcastic or teasing. But it is Asterius, who has only ever been honest with him. Asterius, whose tones of voice Theseus has taught himself until he knows them as well as the weight of his spear in his hand, and who now only sounds genuinely endeared. Also, it is a huge rock.

Then Asterius’s voice changes, and now he _is_ teasing, though only in the fondest way, and Theseus flushes when he speaks up to say, “Have you been so distracted by my strength lately that you have forgotten your own?”

“Why— Well— You _are_ distracting! You are magnificent and powerful and—!”

Asterius gently nudges him through the doorway.

“We are needed in the arena soon.” A pause. “And my king?”

“Yes Asterius?”

“Thank you.”

Theseus feels that same soft warm sensation blooming in his chest. “Anytime, my love, truly.”

* * *

Things only get better when they fight Zagreus in the arena.

Theseus huffs and storms around their little antechamber as they wait. Even with the time it takes to change into their arena outfits, it’s still a while before a shade notifies them that Zagreus has made it to the arena’s entrance. And this, at least, they have mastered the timing on.

Their own doorway slides open, Theseus and Asterius stride out to a cheering crowd. Theseus thanks the audience, promising a show for their patience. He offers some one-sided banter and commentary, and when they hear the beginning rumble of the gates, he wraps it up with one final, dramatic wave, and the door opens for Zagreus.

“So you’ve returned, you nuisance, you _fiend!_ Must you continue to befoul the arena with your presence? Must you continue to waste dear Asterius and my time by then proceeding to tarry about on your way here? If you will not do us the courtesy of dying before you get here, you should at least show some respect by making haste!”

“I’d love to be done with this just as much as you, Theseus! My _deepest_ apologies that I could not fully take advantage of Hermes’ blessings this time, but rest assured I can still kick your ass.”

Theseus and Zagreus scowl at each other, the stands delight at the verbal fight preceding a physical one, and Asterius sighs, putting on an exasperated front. Despite that, his blood is beginning to pound in his ears and he flexes his grip on his axe and Theseus looks at him out of the corner of his eye and grins.

“Well then, my king,” Asterius says, “Shall we move along then, and earn another win as champions, so we may return to our business?”

There’s the faintest flicker of surprise on Theseus’s face as he tries to process whether Asterius’s comment is innocent or not, but he hides it easily in front of the crowd. He puffs up his chest, beams, and braces his shield.

“On your guard, hellspawn!”

And the fight begins.

Zagreus wields a foreboding assortment of blessings from the Olympians. Zeus’s lightning crackles around the edges of Theseus’s shield, the delayed bite of Ares’s curse makes every hit cut that much deeper, and Demeter’s chill numbs their fingers and their feet. And that's to say nothing of a half dozen other blessings that wear at the champions. Zagreus also wears his gauntlets upon his hands.

(The curious paws are not new and Theseus does not fully understand how they came about or what exactly it all means, but after the first encounter with them he had sulked. He’s usually glad to see Asterius forge relationships with others but does it _have_ to be Zagreus? Must Asterius help their opponent so? Asterius had only laughed gently and trailed a line of kisses down Theseus’s back and promised he had nothing to worry about. Theseus still doesn’t like it, but he’s not going to continue to hold a grudge. Not when he knows he’s the only one who holds Asterius’s heart.)

The important part now, is that the gauntlets are close range, and that in this form, they swipe wide. And Theseus knows Zagreus intends his usual plan of dealing with Asterius first. Theseus isn’t going to allow that this time.

He sticks close to Asterius, even though it limits some of his choices and hurts his precision. Zagreus curses as he has to repeatedly dodge out of the range of Theseus’s arcing spear, then leap back in to strike at Asterius between his swings and leaps. Asterius gets a kill on Zagreus. But Zagreus does a lot of damage. He hits hard and fast and these gauntlets swipe wide enough that Theseus, sticking close, gets caught in their range too.

Asterius bellows as his blood rushes hot and his adrenaline surges, swinging harder, faster, arcs of energy rippling out from his strikes. Theseus can see the moment of relief in Zagreus’s shoulders when he recognizes it as a sign that Asterius is quite battered. But then Zagreus makes another wide swipe at Asterius’s back, and lightning crackles around the edge of Theseus’s shield too, and it fucking _hurts_.

Theseus’s whole body stings, and his pulse is hammering in his chest and behind his eyes, and sweat is slicking his palms, and he feels the telltale combination of desperation and mania and thrill that only emerges in a good, genuine, dangerous fight. It’s the kind of headrush when his life’s on the line that lets him reach out into divine aether.

Zagreus catches his eye right as a wide vicious smile spreads across Theseus’s face.

“Oh fuck.”

“Lord Poseidon!”

Zagreus turns to sprint away, and promptly runs headfirst into a charging Asterius.

Poseidon’s waves chip at whatever last bits of strength Zagreus was holding onto. He crumples for a moment, gets his knees back under him, and surges upright in time for Theseus’s spear to nail him in the chest. Asterius slams down from a leap, flinging Zagreus backwards, axe biting deep into his shoulder, and Zagreus looks back just in time to see Theseus recall his spear, storm in close, and swing _hard_.

The stands are roaring as Zagreus’s body crumples and then liquifies into blood and seeps between the stone tiles, presumably to join with the Styx. The first time they fought him, Theseus will admit he and Asterius stared down at it the spectacle in horror, because no one in Elysium does anything like that. They’ve since grown used to the sight, and the rush in their ears at beating Zagreus—an increasingly difficult task—is as loud as the crowd.

Before the blood has fully seeped away, Theseus is already charging Asterius, leaping into his arms with a cry of victory. Asterius swings Theseus onto his shoulders, and they spin, arms up to soak in the crowd’s cheers. Theseus tosses his head back in delighted, semi-shocked, half-hysterical laughter. Asterius hides a smile against Theseus’s knee, looking up at him from the corner of his eye, tracking the way light turns his hair molten gold.

* * *

The champions keep it together until they make it back through the arena doors. Elysium doesn’t even bother taking them to their arena antechambers this time, and they walk out of the stadium, down the half-hall that sits between all of Elysium’s gates, and straight into Asterius’s bedroom. Theseus doesn’t bother to think about the physics of the large gates linking with their much smaller household doors—Elysium is odd and the dead quickly get used to it. What Theseus does do is immediately spin around to slam Asterius against the door, hiking up a leg to get the leverage to kiss up Asterius’s chest and throat.

Normally he’d try and climb Asterius like a tree, trusting that between Asterius’s arms and his own legs they have more than adequate strength to hold him up. But today he feels aggressive and riled up and just a little chaotic and he tangles his fingers in the back of Asterius’s mane and yanks him down for a kiss. Asterius bends obligingly, and Theseus wraps his arms around his neck, laughing into Asterius’s mouth, then licking inside, wet and messy.

“We’re incredible, Asterius! Hah, we—even fighting an opponent with most of the greatest Olympians on his side, we still triumph!”

Asterius laughs gently as well, then bites down on Theseus’s shoulder before pushing him back a few stumbling steps until he topples over onto the bed.

“I will be right back, my king.”

Theseus glares, sits up before Asterius shoves him back down. Theseus fights it for a bit, grinning, as he makes Asterius actually have to _try_ , but he eventually lets himself flop back onto the bed.

“If you must! But I am not so patient today, my love!”

Theseus puts on a irritated voice and Asterius heaves a mock-exasperated sigh, but they both know its an act.

Theseus pulls his clothes out of the way enough to get a hand on his own cock, and he stares up at Asterius.

“It’s true Asterius! If you leave me hanging I may just entertain myself!”

Asterius leans in and speaks into Theseus’s ear, breath tickling his hair.

“Then entertain yourself. I think I am more than capable of taking you to task regardless of whether you get yourself off first, my king. I will be back.”

Theseus stares, wide eyed as Asterius steps back without even touching him, posture smug and eyes amused.

“You... tease!” He shouts at the door as it closes behind Asterius. But then he collapses back on the bed in giddy laughter.

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, before scrambling up and out of his clothes. He flings them to a floor in a pile, and idly thinks he should pick them up—he doesn’t know how long Asterius will be gone with whatever, but he probably has ample time to spare—but he decides against it. Elysium will handle it when they’re asleep or not looking.

Instead he squirms back to burrow in the sheets, and to touch himself lazily. For all his prior threats, he’s not particularly inclined to rush himself to the finish. Not that he’s going to delay either, but if he gets there before Asterius comes back, he gets there, and they’ll just have to start fresh. It’ll hardly be a chore.

He feels _good_. His body should hurt, even after Elysium has closed any open injuries, but the rush of adrenaline has long blurred it into background static. Winning always feels good, and winning beside Asterius only ever makes it better, and the harder the fight the better it feels. He feels strong and victorious and hyperaware of how his muscles shift under his skin. For all that they pretend being champions is effortless, he and Asterius work hard for it. He runs his hands along his abdomen and his chest, alternating between the rest of his body and his dick.

He wonders what Asterius is up to. He closes his eyes and pictures Asterius’s body against his, thinks about how they move in sync with each other, whether in battle or in bed. They’re a matched set, and their terms as champions have only proven that everyone in Elysium can see it too.

His hand on his cock speeds up a little, but like it’s some sort of call, the door opens.

Theseus blinks his eyes open to see an equally nude Asterius return, and he immediately sits up, scrambling out of bed to reach for Asterius.

They collide together, and Theseus wraps one hand around Asterius’s bicep and tangles the other in his mane and shoves. They grapple back into the bed, and then manage to displace all the sheets as they wrestle, laughing into each other’s mouths. They don’t hold back—Asterius digs a giant thumb into a bruise where Theseus’s neck meets his shoulder, and in retaliation Theseus grinds a knee into Asterius’s ribs where he took a particular nasty blow earlier. Asterius grunts and Theseus takes advantage of it to leverage into a roll. His goal was to get on top of Asterius, but the motion tumbles them both right off the edge of the bed and onto the floor.

The impact knocks the breath out of both of them, but Theseus recovers first, scrambling astride Asterius waist so he can pin him down. Asterius bucks and Theseus digs in his heels and brackets his forearms across Asterius chest and uses all of his weight and experience and fighting knowledge to make Asterius struggle against it.

Even as Asterius pushes back against Theseus, he’s beaming up at him, eyes warm.

“You’re incredible, my king. You saw an opportunity and crafted a plan and then carries it out, even at your own expense. I know no one with such resolve as you, able to tolerate such pain for victory.”

Theseus laughs, breathless, and releases one of his arms so he can stroke up Asterius’s throat and jaw.

“I could not do any of it without you, my love. You know this! I am able to fight as I do because I know I have you by my side, I am able to devise the plans I make because I have you as a part of them! And victory is all the sweeter for having you to savor them with!”

He leans in for a kiss, and even as Asterius kisses back, he takes advantage of the shift in weight to try and roll Theseus off. Theseus grabs at his thigh as a brace, pushing at the back of his knee, and shoves. Asterius’s leg buckles and bends up towards his chest, just a _little_ too easily, and Theseus pulls back with a frown at the capitulation.

Asterius eyes are sparkling up at him with some secret joke as he relaxes under Theseus. Instinctively, reflexively, Theseus continues the push at Asterius’s thigh, and then he looks down to the exposed curve of Asterius’s ass, the pucker of his hole, which is very clearly wet and shiny.

“I— Asterius?”

Asterius grins up at him. “We had discussed this before, and I suspected that was where things would lead today. You have no shortage of oil laying around, so I helped myself.”

Theseus whines at the mental image of Asterius on his knees, fingering himself open.

“Then, can I—“

“Help yourself, my king.”

Theseus lets out a pathetic little choked noise, then thrusts his hips and slides his dick inside of Asterius.

Asterius tosses his head with a groan and it’s—fuck it’s incredible and indescribable and Theseus nearly bites through his lip at the restraint of not immediately pistoning into Asterius to chase his own orgasm. He pants against the back of Asterius thigh before letting it drop, hooked over his shoulder, and the other around his waist, so he can wrap his hands around Asterius’s hips.

“Asterius, dearest, love, you’re torturing me.”

Asterius only laughs. “You’ve told me such things before.”

“Next time you must let me do this for you! I want to feel you open up around my fingers, I want to touch you until you cum, I want to learn how you like it, what makes your eyes roll back.”

He can feel Asterius clench and spasm at his words and _oh_ it’s too much.

“Of course, my king, I only suspected we might not have much patience if we didn’t separate ourselves.”

Despite the rationality of his words, Asterius is breathless and panting.

Theseus chokes down a moan and asks, “Asterius, my love, may I move now or do you need more time?”

Asterius grins up at him and reaches up to run his fingers through Theseus’s hair. Then he twists his hand into a fist and pulls, and Theseus gasps.

“My king, I can take whatever you give me.” His grin is a little wild, a little wicked. “Show me your strength, take what you want.”

Theseus’s dick twitches at Asterius’s words, and it only reminds him of how tight and warn Asterius is. He flexes his grip on Asterius’s hips, testing the strain in his arms. Asterius is heavy but he is _champion_. So he pulls Asterius’s hips up enough to give him leverage, and yanks them back to meet him as he thrusts.

It’s going to be over soon—too soon, and Theseus is nearly sobbing with how good it is. And the way Asterius’s throws his head back, baring his throat, as he makes rough, punched-out, animal grunts, only fuels the fire burning in the pit of Theseus’s stomach. It’s hard work dragging Asterius’s body across the ground, but it’s oh so gratifying. The slap of his hips against Asterius’s ass is obscene, and Theseus knows his mouth is spilling profanities, and Asterius’s cock jerks against his abdomen with each thrust.

Theseus can feel his orgasm approaching, and for a moment he’s tempted to press his will into Elysium’s powers and wring out his endurance as far as he can. He never wants this to end, and he wants to be buried in Asterius forever, and he wants to keep Asterius submerged in pleasure. But as tempting as it is, he wants to watch Asterius come, and he wants to chase that peak together.

Theseus fumbles his free hand up to wrap around Asterius. One hand isn’t enough to make a full ring around his cock, but Asterius doesn’t seem to mind, groaning as he thrusts up into Theseus’s grip, before rocking back on his dick.

Theseus digs his teeth into his lip, watching Asterius as he chants his name, before he spills inside of Asterius with a sigh. Dazed, he continues to stroke Asterius, until he too comes. The clench of his ass around Theseus’s half-hard dick is so good it hurts, and the mental stimulation of Asterius’s come spilling across his fingers is too much in combination. Theseus whimpers as another wave of pleasure crashes over him, and his overstimulated squirming pulls his cock free.

He catches his breath against the side of Asterius’s leg, still draped over his shoulder, until Asterius flexes the muscles in it a little. Theseus stares down at him for a moment, uncomprehending, until Asterius sighs.

“I am not quite so flexible as you, my king.”

“Oh!”

Theseus carefully lowers Asterius flat to the floor.

“Are you alright? Does it hurt?”

Asterius stretches a little before he replies.

“I think I am fine, my king. Were it any longer I would cramp, but I merely suspect I will be sore in the morning.” He interrupts the frown beginning to form on Theseus’s face.

“Do not mind it, Theseus, I would much prefer to hold you in bed.”

He sits up, climbs onto the bed with a groan, and pats the space beside him. Theseus obligingly slides himself into the niche under Asterius’s arm, tucking his head against Asterius’s chest. The sheets are a tangled mess from their earlier grappling and they’re both still sticky with sweat and their own cum, but neither have much energy to do anything about it.

The two of them lay there a short while, drifting in not-quite-sleep, and when Theseus rouses, he spends some time watching Asterius’s peaceful face, and carefully casting his gaze across Asterius’s body, cataloguing the faint stirrings his body conjures in response.

Eventually Asterius begins to stir, and Theseus waits to speak until he has blinked most of the daze from his eyes, and is looking up at Theseus curiously.

“It is not that I forgot my strength,” Theseus says quietly.

Asterius tilts his head to look down at Theseus, one brow cocked. Theseus flushes.

“Well, perhaps a little. But-!” He sits up so he can look at Asterius properly, tangling himself in the disheveled sheets. He extricates himself with a curse, before leaning his palms against Asterius’s chest, propping himself up so he fills Asterius’s vision.

“That is not why I find your strength so attractive, my love! I need you to understand this! It is _because_ I am strong that your strength is so appealing! I... may doubt many things, but I also know that I have not won the title Champion of Elysium for nothing. One of the champions at least, won by your side,” he amends, leaning down to kiss Asterius’s cheek.

“I do not mean to dismiss you,” he continues, “or your achievements, because they are great and they are many, and there are a number of fights I could have never won without you by my side!”

With a hand to the back of Theseus’s head, Asterius guides him into as proper of a kiss as the two of them can have. He licks softly into Theseus’s mouth before he lays back again.

“I did not worry you were dismissing me, but I appreciate your consideration.” He gently strokes Theseus’s hair. “You are indeed strong my king, and many of our fights are ones you could win alone, if not all.”

“Yes, well,” Theseus says, pleased, before he forces himself to remember his original train of thought. When he remembers, he feels an embarrassed flush diffuse over his neck and shoulders and face.

Asterius waits for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, speaks up himself. “You always look quite alluring when you blush like that, my king.”

Theseus is sure he only gets redder. He huffs, but realizes the only distraction now would be to finish his thought.

“My point was that, it is _because_ I am strong that your strength drives me mad! I have never met anyone who could hold me down or manhandle me as you do!”

Asterius laughs a little to himself, then decides to share the thought he found so amusing before Theseus can complain.

“Surely Heracles is strong enough, I would think.”

Theseus smacks Asterius’s chest in frustration. Asterius winces a little.

“Stop talking about others when we are having sex!”

Asterius looks up at him, grins, and then flips them.

“Is that what we’re doing now?” he murmurs, voice low, and face close.

Like this, Asterius blocks out nearly all the light from the room. Like this, he is backlit in just the right way to highlight the curve and cut of his muscles. Like this, Theseus is achingly aware of how massive and strong Asterius is, and he is suddenly breathless and hard.

“I would like it to be,” he says.

Asterius hums, then slowly braces one forearm across the expanse of Theseus’s chest. He presses down a little, and Theseus decides to push back in response. Asterius’s weight quickly lifts, releasing Theseus, and Theseus quickly moves to grab Asterius’s arm and press it back down.

“Surely your strength is greater than that!”

Asterius looks down, curious and calculating. Theseus can see it on his face when the understanding clicks, then feel it against his chest. He moans, braces his legs, and tries to sit up. Asterius grunts, genuinely pushed back just a moment, before he leans more of his weight in and Theseus is shoved fully flat again.

“Theseus, you will tell me to stop if you need it?”

Theseus gently strokes a hand down Asterius’s snout. “Of course, my friend! Always!”

Asterius nods once, determined, then adjusts his balance and folds a shin down across the tops of Theseus’s thigh.

Theseus gasps, bucks, and finds himself almost completely immobilized. His arms are free but he knows at this angle he has little leverage to grapple or shove Asterius’s bulk off of him. That doesn’t stop him from trying though. And if—so close like this—he can see Asterius pupils dilate when he pushes back, then who can blame him for thrashing?

Asterius grunts as he has to push his weight harder down upon Theseus, and they test the waters like this, the pressure gradually increasing until it’s achingly, deliciously, obvious Theseus has no chance, and he goes limp with a whine.

“Are you going to be good for me, Theseus?” Asterius rumbles.

Theseus manages a grin, though he suspects its undercut by the flush on his cheeks and the way his own eyelashes flutter.

“I’m always good for you, dearest Asterius! But you also know I never give up a fight!”

Asterius laughs, and it warms Theseus from the inside out. But it also lightens the pressure he’s using to hold Theseus down, and Theseus knows how to take advantage of an opening.

He tries to shove himself up, and it’s only decades of fighting experience that give Asterius the reaction speed to pin him back before he gets anywhere. This time his hold is far more complete, braced against Theseus’s biceps as well to immobilize his arms.

Asterius clicks his tongue. “So you’re going to make me work for it, my king?”

“Of course!”

The crinkle of Asterius’s eyes gives away a smile, even as he shakes his head in mock disappointment.

“That’s unfortunate. We’re too closely matched for me to hold you back at your full strength, and leave a hand free.” Asterius nuzzles against Theseus’s throat, and his breath is warm as he speaks directly in his ear.

“I’d like to fuck you now, my king. But if I cannot free a hand to prepare you, I suppose I must make do.”

Asterius grinds down into the crease of Theseus’s hip. He’s just shy of Theseus’s own cock, and Theseus is held down too thoroughly to grind up against Asterius’s abdomen. He can only lay there and take it, feeling the heat of Asterius, and the wet trails the head of his dick draws against his hip. Asterius breathes heavily, and Theseus’s blood burns as he hears the hitches and groans that prove Asterius is enjoying himself.

“Asterius please,” he begs.

“I do not know what you want here,” Asterius chuckles, “I cannot prepare you while holding you down, and if I release your arms you’ll push me back. Really, my king, this is the only option you leave me.”

Theseus is tearing up, overwhelmed with the need, and he finally caves.

“Asterius you’re cruel. I... release my arms my love, I’ll be good, I’ll be good. I’ll do it myself, please, I just need you inside me!”

Asterius laughs gently, shifting his weight, and Theseus throws his hands out to fumble for some oil at speeds rivaling his spear in the arena. The rest of his body still thrashes, at this point half against his own conscious will, and Asterius continues to hold him down. It makes it awkward to reach down when his fingers finally find the clay jar, and it’s hardly an optimum angle to slide them inside himself, but Theseus can’t find it in himself to care. He’s hasty, shoving two in from the start, and he can’t reach his prostate like this so he doesn’t even bother, prioritizing opening himself up. He’s barely spread his fingers enough to make space for a third before he’s doing so.

“Slow down, my king,” Asterius laughs, “We have time and you’re going to hurt yourself. Be patient.”

“Fuck patience!” Theseus snaps, although it’s a little too pitchy to sound properly irritated.

Asterius only laughs again, but he doesn’t protest when Theseus pulls his fingers free and grabs at his dick.

“Well, I suppose,” he says, before he fucks inside Theseus with one easy, brutal thrust.

If Theseus were less beside himself he might tease Asterius for how quickly he drops the veneer of calm. But instead he can only lose himself to the sensation of Asterius inside of him. The pace is punishing and Asterius pins him so thoroughly that he can only take it, writhing ineffectually. He opens his mouth to beg for something, and Asterius knows him better than he knows himself because he easily presses their mouths together before Theseus can even ask.

It’s less a kiss than it is panting into each other’s mouths. Asterius’s tongue is huge and Theseus thinks he could choke on it, even as he tries to lick further behind Asterius’s teeth. They’re not always the most patient lovers, but this is on an entirely different scale. He feels wrung out and frantic, like his heartbeat in his chest is urging him on in a constant, dragged out adrenaline high. Every limb is shaking, and despite being pinned he can’t force himself to hold still or relax.

Logic shouts that he can’t possibly feel more, but Theseus knows better. Orgasm feels like some exponential magnification of it all—a blinding, heart-stopping wave taking him apart and then disassembling those pieces into tinier and tinier bits. He’d cling to Asterius if he could, but he can’t, and it’s overwhelming and fantastic, and his only regret as it begins to ebb is that it took him so far out of himself that he missed Asterius coming. He knows he must’ve, because Asterius has stilled, shaking above him, and he can feel the telltale slick way Asterius’s cock shifts inside him as he squirms.

There’s really only one solution to that.

Asterius is trembling with the aftershocks, and Theseus feels equally oversensitive and tender, but he also feels the weight from Asterius’s arm slacken. He tightens his legs around Asterius’s waist and braces his hands on the bed and flips Asterius onto his back. Asterius’s cock slips out of him at the movement, and Theseus can’t help the whine in the back of his throat.

He rests his weight on a hand against Asterius’s chest, sits up on his knees, and uses his other hand to reach back for Asterius.

Asterius stares, wide-eyed, and tries to sit up. Theseus shoves him back down.

“Come now, Asterius, one more! For me?”

Asterius’s eyelashes flutter. Theseus leans down to kiss him.

“I know you can, my love. Take advantage of Elysium’s regeneration, I am going to have you again.”

“You have... already had me twice today, Theseus.”

Despite the half-not-protest and the strain in Asterius’s voice, he’s hardening again in Theseus’s grasp.

“And perhaps I want you a third time, in yet another way!”

Theseus smiles against Asterius’s mouth, and when Asterius mock-sighs but offers no further protest, he positions Asterius and slides back down his cock.

They cry out in sync, and Theseus pins Asterius beneath him, so he can writhe on Asterius at his own pace. Asterius stills obligingly and lays there, panting and eyebrows pinched in pleasure-pain as Theseus uses him.

It takes a few moments for Theseus to build enough strength in his legs to properly fuck himself on Asterius, and then a while more to build up a proper rhythm instead of something stuttering and halting.

And, after all that work, Theseus doesn’t last terribly long until orgasm washes over him—less a rush or a crest of a wave this time, and more a weak, spasm-y static frying his nerves. Asterius’s hands come up to Theseus’s hips to pull him off as he gasps for breath, but Theseus bats them away and keeps pace.

“Are you sure, my king?”

Asterius sounds breathless and his thighs twitch a little beneath Theseus with each rise and fall, but he lets go and continues to lay back.

“So _so_ sure my love. Unless you need me to stop—“ Asterius shakes his head; “-I can take it. I want more I— _ah_ , you know I’m greedy!”

Theseus feels twitchy and out of control and his attempts to ride Asterius are rapidly devolving into grinding down in place, in little motions that don’t require nearly as much effort. As sensitive as he is, it still sparks pleasure up his spine, and he can’t tell if he’s blinking tears or sweat out of his eyes.

One of Asterius’s hands comes up to clasp his cheek, and the other rests atop Theseus’s hands where they’re braced on Asterius’s chest. He traces little circles with his thumb against Theseus’s wrists and the corner of his mouth, and his expression is so tender and wrung-out that it’s overwhelming.

“Come on, Asterius,” he cries, “You agreed to one more, come on.”

Asterius groans, bucks up hard enough to lift his hips (even with Theseus’s weight upon them) well up into the air, and comes with a soft sigh.

At that, Theseus’s limbs finally give out and he crumples against Asterius’s chest. He tries to continue to grind down against Asterius, despite the white-hot overstimulated ache of it, and Asterius grabs his hips again. This time Asterius puts actual effort into it, fully stilling Theseus, and then lifts Theseus off his dick with ease. Theseus whines a little, but he’s too sore to actually protest.

They lay there, breathing heavily, and Asterius half-consciously brushes Theseus’s damp hair from his face.

“So,” Theseus starts, breathlessly, looking up at him, “You like my strength as well?”

Asterius sighs, pushing his head down, but answers, tone indulgent and fond, into the top of his hair: “Of course I do. How could I not? I have Theseus, champion of Elysium, to myself, and you think I would not relish that in all its splendor? All your glory?”

Theseus can’t help himself, the praise blooming in his chest, and he twists in a pleased little wiggle before burying his smile against Asterius’s chest.

“That is—! That is good to hear, Asterius!”

Asterius snorts fondly.

“And I will tell you as often as you need to hear it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I feel obligated to point out that physical strength has no actual bearing on sexual preferences or roles, and ideas of the ‘stronger’ person (or literally any trait) being associated with topping is a little archaic, but Theseus and Asterius are arena fighters with more-than-a-little-neurotic preoccupations about their martial prowess, that they’ve also tangled up in their sex life. They’re working on it, they’re sort of getting there. Whatever preferences I’ve put on them in this series are not any sort of strict template or rule for actual sexual relationships and dynamics. So, y’know, requisite author’s note PSA.
> 
> Anyways, the fight against Zagreus is loosely based on a recent run I did where I just absolutely fucked myself against those two. It was embarrassing and I felt like a massive idiot as soon as Theseus hit half health.
> 
> This fic was a long one (and so is this author’s note), which I hope is a good thing? Sometimes it felt like I was doing the equivalent of kids make-believe fighting where they ‘I teleport behind you and punch you!’ ‘Well I catch the punch and teleport behind you!’ but instead it was just. Theseus flips Asterius and pins him down, but then Asterius turns it around and flips him, but thEN!
> 
> Final note: I’m marking the series as complete even though I have one more smut oneshot written (and might continue adding more) because this was the last fic I planned in my original arc of smutty follow-up oneshots! I might go in and rearrange stuff a bit too.


End file.
